


In Too Deep

by SuddenlySullen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Improper Concussion Care, M/M, Vampires, vampire!hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: Ben's not paying attention to anything but the swimming feeling in his head when he stumbles over either a rock or his own feet and goes flying forward. The last thing he feels before his vision goes black is a sharp pain in his forehead. He thinks it's only been a few seconds when his vision returns and he sees a pair of boots running towards him."Don't you dare die on my property," a soft voice with the hint of an accent hisses as a strong pair of hands helps him sit upright.Written For Kinktober Day 10 - Prompt: Dubious Consent





	In Too Deep

"You have your phone?" Ben's mother holds his shoulders tightly. "And it's charged right? All the way?"

"Yes, mom." 

"And your friends are going to be with you the whole time? You're not going to go anywhere alone at all?"

"Well I hadn't planned on asking Emery to hold my dick for me while I piss, but if you insist."

"This isn't funny, Ben! You know what happened-"

"What happened what?!" Ben feels himself snap. He tears the mask off his face to point at the angry scar, raised from where he'd been picking at it. He doesn't miss the way she flinches at the sight of it. "Exactly," he spits. 

"Ben, that's not fair," his father looks up from the television, but makes no effort to move. 

"Fair?!" Ben's voice cracks into a shriek. "You wanna talk about fair?! You know she got out months ago?"

"What? Thats-"

"LET ME TALK," Ben roars over his mother's protests. He throws his phone at the wall and basks in the sound of it shattering. She cowers away and he can't find it in him to care. "She's out, living her life,  _ moving on _ , and I don't  _ care. _ I want her to move on. But I want to move on too, and I'm still being punished. I don't get to leave the house without the third fucking degree even though I did  _ everything right. _ That's what's not fair."

Ben leaves without waiting for an answer. When he pulls his mask back on, he tells himself that it's for the costume, not to hide his tears.

He makes his way to Cait's party, which is the elaborate affair that it is every Halloween. He smiles when a very convincing zombie sits up from the ground and snarls at him. He finds Emery first, once he's inside, and drops down on the couch next to him. 

"Fuck, man, that looks badass." Emery brings one hand up to touch the red streaks of resin where Ben filled in the cracks of his mask. 

"Thanks," Ben sighs. 

"You look pissed," Emery says in his ear, voice distorted by the angry-looking mask covering his face. 

"You can't possibly be able to see that. We both have masks on," Ben scoffs. 

"But you are," Emery nudges Ben with his elbow. 

"Just my mom," Ben sighs. "Being crazy, as usual." 

"I feel that," Emery nods. "My mom asked if I had my inhaler at least ten times before I left. Then made me take my meds early anyway. I hate it. The other day she said she wanted to get me a LifeAlert and I don't think she was kidding, man."

Ben drops his head onto Emery's shoulder. "Don't they know we take care of each other?"

Emery turns and bumps the front of his mask against the side of Ben's hair. Ben smiles behind his own mask. 

"Oh shit," Emery mumbles. "What's she doing here?"

Ben looks where Emery seems to have his eyes locked and it's clear what he means. Rey, the girl who had decided to drive drunk last Halloween and smashed into his Uber, is standing across the room talking to someone Ben doesn't recognize. He stands up before he really knows what he's doing.

"Hey," Ben barely recognizes his own voice under the mask. "Rey, right?" 

"Yeah," she looks confused. "I'm sorry do I know you?"

Ben reaches forward and takes the drink out of her hand. Her mouth opens to say something, but before she can, he's pulled his mask off and is drinking what's left of her cup. There’s no burn. It's just Sprite, he realizes, suddenly feeling bad. 

"Dude what the fuck-"

"It's okay, Poe," Rey interrupts her friend. "Give us a minute. I know him. Ben," she puts a hand on his arm. Come on, let's go outside and talk."

Ben follows her, grabbing a drink of his own on their way through the kitchen. 

"I'm sorry," he says once they're standing alone on Cait's back porch. "I thought…"

"I know what you thought. I don't blame you. I'd be mad too." She chews her lip. "I don't drink anymore. I probably shouldn't have come."

"No," Ben shakes his head. "It's- I wasn't mad at you. Everybody fucks up. I was mad cause my parents have been riding my ass. I'm glad you're doing okay."

"Are you? Are you doing okay?"

Ben rubs a gloved hand down his face. He realizes that the empty drink in his hand was just a large cup full of several different kinds of flavored tequila and he has no idea when the last time he ate was. It hits him all at once that he's drunk.

"You know, I'm not. Everyone either hyperfocuses on what happened or they pretend that nothing ever happened. I don't know which one is worse."

"I know what you mean," Rey laughs awkwardly. "Poe, my friend in there, he's a good guy but every time we go somewhere I feel like he's always watching to see if I've even looked at a drink."

"Ten minutes out of one day shouldn't define your whole life," Ben's not sure why, but he tosses his arms around her shoulders. "I'm really glad you were here. I'm gonna. I'm gonna go though."

"Do you need a ride?"

Ben laughs. "I don't think we're there yet, but give Cait your number. I, uh, broke my phone. I'll call you. We can get coffee or something."

"Okay," Rey nods. "I'd like that. Thank you, Ben." 

Ben stumbles off Cait's porch, not bothering with his mask. He walks straight ahead, cutting through the woods with the hope that he can avoid having to talk to anyone who might know his parents. He knows he's stumbling a bit and curses himself for not eating something for lunch. He's not quite sure how he gets himself turned around enough to end up in the backyard of the local shut-in. 

Ben's not paying attention to anything but the swimming feeling in his head when he stumbles over either a rock or his own feet and goes flying forward. The last thing he feels before his vision goes black is a sharp pain in his forehead. He thinks it's only been a few seconds when his vision returns and he sees a pair of boots running towards him. 

"Don't you dare die on my property," a soft voice with the hint of an accent hisses as a strong pair of hands helps him sit upright.

"Sorry," Ben slurs. He tries to focus his vision on the man helping him. 

"Perfect, you thought you'd just stumble over here drunk as a skunk, spy on the weird neighbor, and run back to tell your little friends the horror story?" There's bite to the man's voice that Ben recognizes.

"No," he shakes his head. "I got lost." 

"Get up, come with me. I'll call you an ambulance." The man helps Ben stand with strong hands on his arm. 

"Please don't," Ben shakes his head harder, making himself dizzy. "I'm not so good with doctors. I'm fine. Only one drink. I just didn't eat." 

"Come on, then. No ambulance. We'll clean that up and figure out what to do with you."

Ben doesn't argue. He isn't sure what his objection would even be. He lets the man walk him into his house and guide him to sit down on a couch that looks like it's never even been sat on. 

"You don't have to do this," Ben winces as his hair is pushed off his face to reveal the old scar and the new cut still bleeding down the other side of his face. "What's your name? I'm Ben," he adds.

The man sighs. "Armitage Hux. Do not call me Armitage. Hux is fine."

"What about Armie?" Ben tries to smile. 

"You're lucky you missed your good side, Ben." Armie stands up and walks to the kitchen, coming back with a bowl of water and washcloth. He sits down on the wooden coffee table directly in front of Ben, letting his own knees bump against the inside of Ben's larger legs.

Armie holds Ben's chin in one hand like he's studying him. It makes Ben shift where he's sitting, but he's surprised to realize that his skin doesn't crawl when Armie looks at his face. He chalks it up to the fact that Armie isn't looking at him like he's horrified. He realizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Armie is the prettiest man he's ever seen. Soft locks of red hair have fallen loose from where they look like they were gelled into place. The bridge of his nose is dotted with almost invisible freckles. Even though he seems to have a permanent scowl, there's something soft about Armie's face. 

"Do you make a habit of falling down drunk and breaking your fall with your face," Armie asks as he wipes away the trail of blood. 

"Car accident," Ben answers the question that was really being asked. "Drunk driver." 

"You'd think that would have taught you something about drinking, hm?" Armie's tone is calm and Ben isn't sure how to handle it. He doesn't feel like he's being lectured. 

"I was in an Uber. Other driver was drunk and she hit us right on my side. Everyone else was okay. I was pretty messed up." Ben looks up from his lap when he realizes that Armie has stopped cleaning the blood off, but is still cupping his chin in one hand. "I saw her today," he adds even though he isn't sure why. "She's doing good. I'm happy for her."

"Oh, bullshit," Armie sneers. "No one is happy for people who hurt them." 

Ben flinches. "I want her to be able to move on." 

"You're jealous." And that's it. Ben knows that Armie has him figured out. "You can want to be happy for her, sure, but someday everyone will forget who it was that was driving drunk and no one will ever forget that it happened as long as they have to look at you." Armie's thumb moves gently over the scar to emphasize his point. "You certainly shouldn't stay angry with her forever, but you've every right to be mad at the others who can't see past one tiny moment in your life just because they're forced to stare at the proof."

Ben drops his head forward into Armie's hand, nodding, and lets the tears fall from his eyes. He feels like Armie has somehow managed to look through every wall he's spent his whole life trying to put up in the twenty minutes since he fell down drunk in his backyard. 

"Sorry," Ben sniffs. 

"You're drunk. It was, I assume, a trying day all around. You're hurt. Don't apologize for that. Apologize for bleeding on me if you must be sorry for something," Armie rolls his eyes, but he still hasn't taken his hand away. 

"Sorry for bleeding on you," Ben mumbles. 

Armie shakes his head and leans forward, pressing his lips to Ben's cheek where the scar cuts through it. Ben nearly chokes on a sob. He thinks the last person to touch it was probably the nurse who stitched it up. Something about Armie's gentle touches makes his skin feel like it's burning up. Ben wants to shove him away and pull him into his chest all at once. The feeling is overwhelming. Armie seems to take his ragged breathing as some kind of encouragement, dragging his lips up the redness of the scar until he reaches the newest wound at Ben's temple. It's stopped bleeding and Armie kisses just next to where the scab has formed. Ben isn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he lets rest on the sides of Armie’s legs.

When Armie stands up, Ben thinks he’s done something wrong. His mouth opens to apologize, but before he can, Armie is pulling him up and walking down a hall. Ben’s heart pounds in his chest. He can’t think straight through the haze of alcohol and possibly a concussion, so he holds tight to Armie’s hand and trusts that he won’t let anything bad to happen. Armie leads him to the cleanest bedroom that Ben has ever seen. He feels wrong even stepping in it, like maybe it’s for display purposes only.

“Shoes off and can you do something about that costume,” Armie asks as he lets go of Ben’s hand.

Ben nods, losing his balance slightly as he kicks off his shoes. Armie stands at his side and catches him when he stumbles. He shrugs off the robes of his costume and Armie takes them, hanging them up on a hook on his closet door, and leaving Ben standing in his tshirt and a pair of black leggings.

“Come on,” Armie says as he guides Ben to sit on the end of his bed. “Can’t have you breaking another fall with your face.”

He walks back to the closet and Ben watches, enthralled, as he unbuttons his shirt to change into sleepwear. Ben knows he’s staring, convinces himself that he’ll stop, but his eyes stay locked on the pale skin of Armie’s lower back until there’s a plain white tee shirt pulled over it. Armie drops his dress pants and comes to nudge Ben’s shoulders back onto the bed. Ben crawls up it until his head is on a pillow, mesmerized by the sight of Armie crawling up the bed to straddle his hips. Armie runs a hand lightly up Ben’s arm and Ben can’t help but whine. The touch is too much and not enough.

“Can you… Harder?” Ben isn’t sure he’s making sense. 

Armie seems to understand when he presses his palms down into Ben’s chest. Ben brings his hands to Armie’s hips, gripping them tight to ground himself. Armie rolls his hips into Ben's and Ben doesn't miss the way he's shaking. Ben is painfully hard already, watching the way Armie is rocking against him. His hands move up Armie's back and pull him down so that their chests are pressed together and he can feel Armie's trembling through to his bones. Armie is nipping at his throat, just hard enough to make him wince.

Armie pushes up off Ben’s chest with a lot more strength than Ben expects from looking at him and tugs his own boxers off before tugging Ben’s leggings down just far enough to free his throbbing cock. He gives Ben no warning before swallowing down his entire length. Ben whimpers in the back of his throat, hands twisting in the sheets. His head swims and he’s not sure if he passes out again. It seems like Armie moves inhumanly fast when he pulls away and moves to straddle Ben’s hips again. Ben brings his hands to feel Armie’s thighs and is surprised by the velvety smoothness of them. He presses his fingers in, dragging down the sensitive skin of Armie’s inner thighs to savor the way that his breath hitches. When Armie guides Ben’s cock into himself, Ben struggles to focus on the way that his face relaxes into a soft moan. One of his hands finds its way under Armie’s shirt to grip his cock, just as soft as the skin of his thighs. Armie’s moans are soft and contained, while Ben’s nearly drown him out. 

Ben groans deeply when he feels the pressure starting to build deep in his gut. He tries to say something to warn Armie, but his words are cut off by choked moans. He shuts his eyes against the blurring in his vision. Armie leans forward and buries his face against the side of Ben’s neck. Ben wraps his arms around Armie’s back, holding him close to his chest. He whines and comes deep into Armie at the same time Armie sinks his very sharp teeth into the side of his neck. Ben thinks he might be bleeding into Armie's mouth, but before he can protest, his head is swimming and his vision is fading into black again. He isn't sure if he's dreaming when he wakes and hears Armie talking to someone in the hall.

"You say it's a bad idea like you think I don't know that," Armie whispers angrily. 

"You have to move. Finish it off and leave." There's a woman speaking who might be familiar, but Ben doesn't know from where. 

"I don't think I can do that," Armie tells her. "He calls me 'Armie'."

"You're in deep with this one." She sounds disappointed. 

Ben's vision swims to black again and he doesn't catch Armie's response. He's only vaguely aware of when Armie slides into bed next to him, tangling their limbs together. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one that feels like it might need a continuation someday, but for now I think it can stand alone.


End file.
